See Me
by TwinEnigma
Summary: In another world, Elsa is a shinigami, seeking the name of her sword in the reflection of her soul.


_**See Me**_

 _By: TwinEnigma  
_

 _Disclaimer: I do not own Frozen, Rise of the Guardians or Bleach, or any of the content or characters of said respective properties. I do this for fun and skills building, not profit._

* * *

"Do you see me?" the voice asks, somewhere behind her.

It's closer now, closer than it has ever been. She can almost feel his breath on the back of her neck.

Elsa tightens her grip on the hilt of her white-bound asauchi.

"Do you see me?"

This time she can feel a presence behind her, pressing against her. It's strange how _real_ , how _solid_ it feels when she knows that everything here is merely a reflection of her soul.

The snow whirls faster as the wind picks up, howling over the searing white arctic drifts. In the distance, there is the rumble of cracking and shifting ice.

Her inner world is beautiful and harsh all at once, devoid of anything but the wind, ice and snow. It is fitting, somehow, and yet… it reflects her terrible loneliness, one that has grown so vast since her reiatsu first started leaking out into the world around her without her even really noticing. Had she truly been so blind to it all this time?

Idly, she suddenly longs to run through the snow, toss caution to the wind, and fill the void with anything her imagination desires. It'd be fun, something she's sorely missed these days. What she would give to cut loose and enjoy herself, to let the ice in her veins flow freely!

Fingers brush against her waist. The snow slows, whirls, and hangs suspended in the air as the wind suddenly falls silent. There is this distinct feeling of _evaluation_.

"See me," the voice commands at last. "Call my name."

She can feel cold lips on the back of her neck and the white binding of the grip tangles around her fingers. Her breath comes in large puffs. The air crackles as she looks down at her hands. Her knuckles are white, hands raw, but she does not feel it.

The cold has never bothered her much anyway.

Snow crunches underfoot as the presence moves and, briefly, she sees bare feet.

She raises her head and there is a boy her age there, a wild-looking boy with white hair and vividly blue eyes. He stands before her, barefooted, frost lacing his simple clothing in delicate, fragile whorls, and when he smiles, she remembers playing in the snow with her sister as children and hears the sound of laughter in the wind as it calls for her to play. In his hands, there is a roughly carved wooden shepherd's crook, covered in hoarfrost. He slings the crook down, scooping some snow into the air, and, with a wave of his hand, it rises into the air, smoothing into the familiar shape of a snowball. He then rests the crook against his shoulder, tilting his head as he regards her. The snowball hovers over his hand.

"Do you see me?" he asks.

The storm returns with a vengeance, wind and snow lashing wildly around them. He smiles, his cloak flapping wildly in the winds, and hundreds of snowballs flicker into existence around him.

It's a _game_. He's playing with her.

Again, she tightly grips her asauchi. Then, she closes her eyes and calls his bluff.

The winter storm raging in her heart stills, waits, _listens_.

"Oh moon, let go the north wind and carry us," she says, the words drifting to her like snowflakes as she draws the sword, "Let's play, _Frost_."

There is a surge of power that races through her entire being, down to the depths of her soul, and crashes around her, spilling out and down the blade in a wash of white light. She opens her eyes and all around there is a light dusting of snow. Frost slowly curls up her arms and over her shihakusho. It glitters in the daylight.

In her heart, in the newly transformed zanpakuto in her hand, she can feel _him_ and for the first time in a long time she feels like she is once again whole, as if some part long missing has returned.

"I see you," she says, holding up the frost-laced, rough-hewn shepherd's crook.

He laughs, joyous and triumphant, and it rings through her entire soul.

She can't help laughing, too.


End file.
